Debbie Macomber_Blossom Street 04 (19 page)

W
hen the official-looking woman in the no-nonsense suit walked into Blossom Street Books, Anne Marie knew she was the same one who’d called earlier in the day. She’d introduced herself as Evelyn Boyle, a social worker from Washington State Child Protective Services. She’d sounded calm, professional and reassuring; otherwise Anne Marie might have been alarmed. She had the paperwork Dolores Falk had given her before the surgery, and Ellen and Anne Marie spoke with Dolores frequently.

She didn’t understand why a social worker was involved now. In a few days, Dolores would be released from the care facility and Ellen would return to her. If the state was concerned about Ellen, it was too little, too late.

“You must be Ms. Boyle,” Anne Marie said as she stepped around the counter. Thankfully Theresa, who worked Friday afternoons, had arrived a few minutes earlier.

“And you must be Anne Marie.” The social worker came forward and thrust out her hand. “Please call me Evelyn.”

Despite the woman’s tranquil demeanor, Anne Marie was nervous.

“Is there someplace private where we could visit?” Evelyn asked.

“Sure.” Anne Marie momentarily left her and walked over to Theresa, who eyed her speculatively.

“Is everything all right?” Theresa whispered.

“It’s fine,” she whispered back. In slightly louder tones, she added, “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Theresa nodded.

Anne Marie led Evelyn up the narrow stairway to the apartment. Now that Ellen was more comfortable living with Anne Marie, she’d left a pair of rubber boots on the steps. Anne Marie grabbed them on her way up the stairs.

Baxter stood there waiting for her, tail wagging wildly. He cocked his head to one side, as though curious about her unexpected appearance. After she’d paid Baxter the required amount of attention, he sniffed the social worker’s shoes, then returned to his bed in a corner of the kitchen.

Without asking, Anne Marie walked to the stove and put on water for tea. Evelyn pulled out a chair at the table, then set her briefcase on it and withdrew a yellow legal pad.

“How did you know Ellen was staying with me?” Anne Marie asked. She assumed Dolores hadn’t told Social Services, which meant it was either the hospital or someone from Woodrow Wilson Elementary, probably Helen Mayer.

“I received a call from Ellen’s school,” Evelyn said, confirming Anne Marie’s guess as she dug around the bottom of her purse for a pen.

Anne Marie stood with her back to the kitchen counter,
hands behind her. “Ellen’s grandmother wrote a statement that gives me full guardianship of Ellen while Dolores is recuperating.” How legally binding that scribbled, almost illegible document was remained uncertain. Considering how desperate the poor woman had been for someone, anyone, to look after Ellen, she would’ve signed the girl’s care over to practically anyone.

“I gather you were originally supposed to have Ellen for only a few days.”

“Yes.” Anne Marie wanted to say more but restrained herself. In instances such as this, the less said the better. “Dolores made me promise Ellen wouldn’t go into a foster home.”

Evelyn Boyle glanced up. “There are many excellent foster homes in this area.”

“I’m sure there are….”

“But in essence, Anne Marie, Ellen is already in one.”

“I’m someone Ellen knows and trusts,” Anne Marie said quickly.

“That’s true. It’s exactly what I mean. You
are
her foster mother.” Evelyn waited a moment. “I do understand the situation correctly, don’t I? You and Ellen are not related in any way?”

“That’s correct,” she responded. But the question hovered in the air, swirling up doubts and fears.

The teakettle’s whistle offered a welcome respite. Anne Marie concentrated on pouring water into the pot. She covered it with a cozy and set it in the middle of the table to steep while she got two matching cups and saucers.

Her good dishes were packed away in the storage unit, and the apartment cupboard was filled with mismatched place settings. It had never bothered her before, but it did now. Logically she knew that Social Services wouldn’t
pull Ellen from her care because her dishes didn’t match. Still, Anne Marie discovered that she didn’t want to take
any
chances.

She poured two mugs of tea, hating the way her hand trembled.

“I should tell you I stopped by the school before I drove over here.”

Anne Marie couldn’t decide if that was reassuring or not. “Did you speak to Ellen?”

“I did,” Evelyn said as she reached for the sugar bowl and added a heaping teaspoon. “She had nothing but wonderful things to say about you. She told me about your visits to her grandmother and how you’ve bought her several pieces of clothing. Have you been to the house recently?”

“Twice,” Anne Marie replied. “Ellen needed some of her stuff, and I told Dolores I’d check on the place for her.”

“Excellent. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

Some of the tension seeped away.

Evelyn raised her cup. “Is it true you taught Ellen to knit?”

“Actually, we sort of taught each other. Ellen’s knitting a scarf for her grandmother and I’ve started a lap robe. The various colors don’t match and Dolores won’t be able to wear one near the other. Mine’s a shade of lavender and Ellen went with a peach and pink combination. It’s really lovely. I mean, who would’ve guessed…well, I suppose that isn’t important.” Anne Marie knew she was rambling and forced herself to stop. And yet, she couldn’t resist bragging about Ellen’s accomplishments.

Pushing back her chair, she hurried into the other room and got Ellen’s scarf, still on the needles. “Look how even her stitches are,” she said, displaying the child’s efforts. “My own aren’t half as neat. Ellen loves to knit and she’s
already taught three of her friends. Her teacher was so impressed she thought it might be a good idea for the whole class to learn.”

Evelyn nodded approvingly. “Ellen’s teacher mentioned that to me. She said knitting will help the children with math concepts and learning patience. It’ll also give them a sense of achievement. I think it’s a terrific idea.”

“Really?” Anne Marie couldn’t hold back a smile.

“When I spoke to Ellen, she also told me something about Twenty Wishes. What’s that?”

“Ah…oh, it’s nothing.”

“Not according to Ellen. She has a book she drags to and from school in her backpack.”

Anne Marie didn’t realize Ellen brought it with her. “She does?”

“From what I understand, half the class is making lists as well.”

“Oh…” Anne Marie took a sip of her tea. “A group of my friends and I decided it would be fun, that’s all.” She didn’t want to explain anything beyond that; it was too complicated and too private.

“I love it,” Evelyn said, her enthusiasm unmistakable.

Anne Marie’s gaze shot toward the other woman. “You do?”

“Why, yes. In fact, I immediately started thinking about what I’d put on my own list.”

Anne Marie relaxed a little.

“When I spoke to Ms. Peterski, she said there’s been a marked improvement in Ellen in the last three weeks. Her grades have always been good but she had problems in other areas. Her social skills have vastly improved and she’s making new friends and reaching out to others.”

Anne Marie nodded. Although she had no personal
reason to feel such overwhelming pride, it was difficult not to.

“Ellen is happy, too. This arrangement has obviously worked out well,” the social worker said.

“She’s an easy child,” Anne Marie told her. True, it had taken them a few days to find their footing, but they’d adjusted to living together with surprisingly few problems.

“Yes, she’s done very well,” Evelyn murmured.

“Did Ellen tell you she taught Baxter—my dog—to roll over?” Anne Marie asked. Ellen had worked with the dog for weeks and had only recently accomplished that goal.

“As a matter of fact, she did,” Evelyn said with a glance at Baxter, who snored softly in the corner.

“I believe I mentioned that I spoke to the staff at the nursing facility where Dolores Falk is currently residing, didn’t I?” Evelyn continued.

In her nervousness, Anne Marie didn’t recall. “I’m not sure. Dolores tells me she’s recovering nicely. She said she’d be released sometime next week. Wednesday, she thought.”

Ms. Boyle hesitated before responding. “I understand Mrs. Falk is making excellent progress. She confirmed that you and Ellen visit frequently. And she waits every day for that brief telephone chat with her granddaughter.”

“We see Dolores as often as we can.”

“I’m aware of that, and I applaud your conscientiousness.”

“Three to four times a week,” she added. She made the effort to fit those visits into her schedule because she appreciated how important it was for Ellen—and, of course, Dolores.

“Very good.”

“Thank you. I’m doing my best.”

Evelyn sipped her tea. “I can see that, and the proof is in Ellen. Her teacher’s delighted. Ms. Mayer, the school counselor, sang your praises, too.”

This conversation wasn’t nearly as difficult as Anne Marie had feared it would be. She was beginning to relax.

“Getting back to Mrs. Falk…” The words hung in the air like an unanswered question.

“Yes?” Anne Marie put down her cup.

“Did I hear you say she’s going to be released next week?”

“Yes. Ellen and I were by on Wednesday after school and Dolores said she’d talked to one of the nurses about it.”

“I’m afraid that’s wishful thinking on Mrs. Falk’s part,” Evelyn Boyle said.

“What? How do you mean?”

“I spoke with the doctor’s office as well as the head nurse.”

A chill raced down Anne Marie’s spine. “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yes,” Evelyn assured her. “The healing process is coming along well. But don’t forget she had major heart surgery.”

“Yes, of course.” Fortunately there didn’t seem to be any significant complications.

“However…”

“Are there problems with her recovery?”

“Not exactly problems.”

“What is it, then?”

Mrs. Boyle’s hand lingered on her cup and she ran her index finger along the rim. “Unfortunately it will be some weeks before she’ll be able to return to her own home.”

“Weeks?” Anne Marie repeated. This was a shock and she knew Ellen would be terribly disappointed.

“I’m sorry.”

“How…many weeks?” Anne Marie asked, wondering how she’d explain this to Ellen. “Can you tell me how much longer it’ll be before Dolores can go home?”

“I’m not a physician.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Two weeks.”

“That’s what I was told,” she said. “But you mean an
additional
two weeks, right?” Anne Marie exhaled slowly.

“Yes. Are you okay with that?”

“Definitely. I’m just afraid this is going to be upsetting for Ellen. The child loves her grandmother very much.”

“I know.”

“Ellen’s been marking off the days until she can move back in with Dolores.”

“I understand this will be a setback for the child. I also understand that it’s far and above what you agreed to when Ellen came to stay with you,” Evelyn said. “If you feel it’s too much, I could probably find a temporary home for Ellen.”

“That would upset her even more,” Anne Marie said, dismissing the offer out of hand. “It was difficult enough for Ellen to be separated from her grandmother. Placing her in another completely foreign environment would be doubly traumatic.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

At least they saw eye to eye on that, Anne Marie thought with relief.

“Then you won’t mind keeping Ellen for another two weeks?”

“Of course I don’t mind.” Any other option wasn’t worth considering.

“In that case, I’d like to leave some forms for you to complete.”

“What kind of forms?” Anne Marie didn’t like the sound of this.

Evelyn Boyle took a sheaf of papers out of her briefcase. “Since Ellen’s been with you for more than two weeks already and is likely to remain for an additional two, I’d like you to apply for your license.”

“My license for what?”

“To be Ellen’s foster parent,” she said as if this was perfectly logical.

An automatic objection rose in her throat, but Anne Marie bit down on her tongue rather than argue. The best thing to do was to appear compliant. However, she had no intention of becoming a foster parent. What was the point? By the time she finished applying, Ellen would be back with her grandmother and it would be irrelevant.

“Thank you,” Anne Marie said, accepting the papers.

She stood and took the teapot and cups to the sink. “I appreciate your coming by,” she said, since the interview was clearly over.

“My pleasure.”

Baxter got up from his dog bed and walked them to the stairs, as though that was one of his prescribed duties. He stood silently at the top while the two women climbed down.

Anne Marie was saying goodbye to the social worker when she noticed a lone figure in the overstuffed chair, her head drooping, hair half-covering her face. The
woman appeared to be asleep. Anne Marie glanced at her again, and suddenly realized who she was.

Her stepdaughter, Melissa Roche.

A
s if aware of Anne Marie’s scrutiny, Melissa opened her eyes and sat up, looking self-consciously around. Anne Marie wished now that she’d returned her phone call. Even from a distance, she could see that Melissa was in distress.

For the moment she ignored her and accompanied Evelyn Boyle to the door. She thanked her for the visit and agreed to read over the paperwork—and read it was all Anne Marie intended to do. Evelyn obviously didn’t want to remove Ellen from her temporary custody any more than Anne Marie wanted to let the child go.

She had to admit she felt ambivalent about this latest information concerning Dolores. On the one hand, she knew Ellen would be disappointed; on the other hand, she herself wasn’t unhappy about the girl’s extended stay.

By the time Evelyn Boyle had gone and Anne Marie turned back to the shop, Melissa was standing uncertainly beside the chair. She seemed to be waiting for Anne Marie.

Anne Marie spoke with Theresa for a few minutes about some special orders, then walked toward her stepdaughter. “Hello, Melissa.”

“You didn’t return my phone call. I left a message.”

“I was out last night. I didn’t get in until late.”

Melissa seemed confused. “You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

Why would she ask that question again? Anne Marie couldn’t even
think
about another relationship so soon after losing Robert. “No. I was with a group of women friends, although that isn’t really any of your concern,” she said brusquely. “I intended to call back this evening.” Actually, Melissa had phoned more than once. Caller ID had shown three calls, all from her stepdaughter, although she’d left only the one message.

“Could I buy you lunch?” Melissa asked in a surprisingly tentative voice.

“Thank you, but I’ve already eaten.”

Melissa blinked as if she hadn’t expected that despite the fact that it was nearly two in the afternoon.

“The truth is, I’m not eager to visit another restaurant with you.”

Melissa blanched. “I said I was sorry about that.”

Anne Marie nodded. “Yes, you did.”

“And I am, I really am! Sometimes I do stupid stuff. I don’t know why I thought I should tell you what I saw. Brandon about bit my head off. He said—well, never mind.”

Anne Marie could see this wasn’t going to be a quick visit, so she motioned for Melissa to sit down again, then took the chair next to hers. The shop wasn’t busy and Theresa was handling what business there was without a problem.

The two women sat silently for several seconds. Anne Marie was determined not to speak first. After all, Melissa had sought
her
out. She was the one with the agenda and frankly, Anne Marie was curious as to what it might be.

“Brandon said he came by a little while ago.”

“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate.

“He said there’s a child living with you.”

“It’s a temporary situation.”

Melissa acknowledged the comment with a slight nod. “He said that, too, and that—Allie, is it?”

“Ellen.”

“He said that Ellen’s a real sweetheart.”

“She is.” Anne Marie wished Melissa would get to the point. “But I’m sure you aren’t here to discuss my child-care activities.”

“No,” her stepdaughter agreed, fidgeting nervously with her hands. “Did Brandon tell you Mom and I aren’t getting along?”

“He mentioned it.”

“Mom’s really upset with me.”

“Is there any particular reason?”

She responded with a shrug. “Several, actually. For one thing, it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to graduate on time.”

“Melissa!” Anne Marie couldn’t help the gasp of shock. Robert had bragged about Melissa’s making the Dean’s list; Anne Marie doubted that the problem, whatever it was, had anything to do with her grades.

“I…I dropped out of school.”

Anne Marie’s mouth fell open. “But…why?” she asked incredulously.

Melissa didn’t answer.

Anne Marie saw that the younger woman’s eyes had
filled with tears. Gazing down at her hands, Melissa murmured something Anne Marie couldn’t quite hear.

“I beg your pardon?”

Melissa raised her chin. She inhaled and then said more loudly, “I’m pregnant.”

Anne Marie sagged against the back of the chair. “Pregnant,” she repeated, doing her best to hide her stunned surprise.

“Mom is furious with me.”

Anne Marie could well imagine. Pamela had big plans for her daughter. Melissa’s career path had been paved very nicely by her mother, who worked in upper management for an international chain of hotels based in London. According to Brandon, Pamela had secured a middle management position for Melissa as soon as she received her MBA. With the position came the opportunity to live in England.

“She wants me to get rid of it—that’s how she put it. To have an abortion.”

Anne Marie hardly knew what to say. She couldn’t believe Pamela wanted to “get rid of” her first grandchild. Robert would’ve been horrified by that, she thought.

“The baby is your boyfriend’s? Michael’s?” Anne Marie asked as she tried to sort through her own emotions.

Melissa nodded.

“What does he want you to do?”

Melissa closed her eyes. “I…I haven’t told him yet.”

Leaning forward, Anne Marie clasped Melissa’s hand.

Sobbing, her stepdaughter held on tightly. “I broke up with him.”

In her fear and panic, Melissa suddenly seemed very young to Anne Marie. “Michael has a right to know,” she whispered gently.

Melissa sniffed piteously. “I realize that, and I will tell him. It’s just that… Everything’s so messed up, and I’m not sure what to do. I didn’t tell him because I was afraid he’d try to influence me one way or the other, and I didn’t want that.”

“So you broke off the relationship?”

Melissa bit her lip. “Stupid, wasn’t it?”

Uncertain how to respond, Anne Marie squeezed her hand.

“I’ve never missed my dad more than I do right now. I’m so confused, and my mother’s so angry with me.”

“What does she say?” Anne Marie asked.

“She e-mails me two and three times a day with what she calls advice, except it reads more like a court order. I made a mistake, according to Mom, but that mistake doesn’t need to screw up the rest of my life. She told me to make an appointment at one of those clinics and terminate the pregnancy before it’s too late. She said if I lose this chance to work in England, I’ll always regret it—that I’ll never get a chance like this again.”

Anne Marie had to struggle to keep from saying what she thought of that advice.

“She made it sound like I wouldn’t regret making a hasty decision about my baby. I don’t think I can do it, Anne Marie.” The tears made wet tracks down her pale cheeks.

“What do
you
want?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, still clutching Anne Marie’s hand. “The thing is, I talked to a lady at the Pregnancy Crisis Clinic, and there are a lot more options than I thought.”

“Don’t you think you should explore all your options before you make such an important decision?”

“That’s just it,” Melissa sobbed. “I only have a few more days while it’s still legal to have an abortion.”

“How far along are you?”

“Over three months.” She pulled her hand free and scrabbled in her purse for a tissue. “At first I didn’t believe I could possibly be pregnant. I mean, I’ve never had regular periods, anyway, and there wasn’t any reason to…to think I might be. Michael and I used protection and, well, apparently it wasn’t a hundred percent effective, because here I am.” She gestured weakly, then wiped her nose.

“You’ve been to a doctor?”

She looked away. “Not yet. But a technician at the pregnancy clinic did an ultrasound and I actually saw my baby move.”

“Have you talked to your friends? Or Brandon?”

Melissa shook her head. “No one knows, other than you and my mother. I just couldn’t face anyone else.”

“How can I help you?” Anne Marie asked, wondering why Melissa had turned to her. But the reasons for her stepdaughter’s change of heart didn’t matter, Anne Marie told herself. She would do whatever she could.

“I need…I need someone who can help me decide.”

Melissa had difficulty making decisions; that was clear, since she’d made a number of spectacularly bad ones. But perhaps some of them could be reversed.

“Okay,” Anne Marie began, taking a deep breath. “First, I don’t see that there’s any reason to drop out of school, especially this close to graduation.”

“I know. That was just as stupid as breaking up with Michael, wasn’t it?”

“Do what you can to get back on course for graduation. Your father would’ve wanted you to complete your education.”

Melissa nodded; she seemed to appreciate the advice. “Several of my professors have asked to talk to me, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Good.”

“What about my mother?” Melissa asked, looking anxiously at Anne Marie.

“This is your decision, not hers.”

She nodded again, as if she needed to be reminded of that. “If I don’t go to England…”

“Why can’t you go?”

“Mom said I couldn’t have the job unless I aborted the baby.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mean that,” Anne Marie said. “The news shocked her, that’s all.” She remembered Robert confessing that he’d gotten Pamela pregnant before they were married. Apparently she was afraid her daughter would repeat her own mistakes by marrying too young—and in Pamela’s view, marrying the wrong man.

“I should tell Michael right away, shouldn’t I?”

“That would be a good idea.” Anne Marie could see this was something Melissa wanted to do. “The two of you can talk it over together. Do you love him?”

“Yes, but… A friend told me she saw him with someone else.” She paused, tears running unchecked down her face. “If he loved me, he wouldn’t be dating again so soon, would he?”

“Who knows why men do anything?” Anne Marie asked, hoping to inject a bit of humor into the conversation.

Melissa responded with a wobbly smile. A moment later, she whispered, “Thank you, Anne Marie. I never thought I’d turn to you for anything and now I feel you’re the only person I can talk to.”

There’d been a time, a long time, when Anne Marie would’ve done anything to win her stepdaughter’s approval. Little did she realize it would come after Robert’s death.

They hugged and arranged to meet for lunch the following week. As they broke apart, Anne Marie recognized that Melissa wanted to say something else. She looked away and then back at Anne Marie, her eyes intent.

“I
am
sorry about the last time we met—you know that, right?”

Anne Marie nodded.

“Have you…?” She didn’t complete the thought, almost as though she was weighing the advisability of even asking.

“Have I what?”

Melissa shrugged. “Contacted Rebecca? Have you asked her about the…baby?”

“No.” Anne Marie kept her voice as flat as possible.

Her stepdaughter accepted that without further comment. With a wave and a “See you next week,” she headed for the door.

Anne Marie waited until Melissa had left the bookstore before she collapsed onto the overstuffed chair and pressed one hand over her eyes. This nightmare that had become her life just wasn’t going away.
She
was the one who wanted a child.

Not Rebecca.

Not Melissa.

Anne Marie.

Her longing for a baby had led to her separation from Robert—a desperate attempt to impress on him how serious she was. Not that it had done her any good. Instead,
Robert’s personal assistant now had a baby, most likely his, and his daughter had turned to Anne Marie for advice about an unwanted pregnancy.

But there was no baby for her.

No love, either.

She sensed someone at her side and opening her eyes, found Theresa standing there. Her employee rested one hand on Anne Marie’s shoulder.

“Bad news?” she asked.

Forcing a smile, Anne Marie shook her head. “That was Robert’s daughter.”

Knowing the history between them, Theresa stared at her. “Melissa? Is she okay? Are
you?
”

“She…she misses her father.”

So did Anne Marie, even more than she’d thought possible.